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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25644586">Aquired Taste</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/windowsvisas/pseuds/windowsvisas'>windowsvisas</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>M/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 12:02:42</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,662</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25644586</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/windowsvisas/pseuds/windowsvisas</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Hubert von Vestra has a personality that is at times as dark and bitter as the coffee he drinks. Ferdinand is finding he's glad he's taken the time to appreciate it.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Ferdinand von Aegir/Hubert von Vestra</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>79</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Aquired Taste</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hello! I haven't written fanfic in literal years but I kinda like this so here it is! It's been a while so sorry if it's kinda rough haha</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>      Ferdinand stared past the steam swirling up from his teacup, and considered the man seated across from him. So much about him was familiar now—he suspected he could paint the gaunt lines of his face in his sleep, had memorized his mannerisms and subtle expressions. It was a face often carefully guarded so as to be threatening and unreadable, always half-obscured, leaving unanswered questions in shadows under cheekbones and in the dark circles under his eyes. Hubert von Vestra was not looking him directly now, instead sliding the one piercing eye he kept visible off to the side as he made a slow gesture with one hand before carefully returning it to rest on the side of his coffee cup. He was recounting some story involving numbers and, no doubt, stacks of future paperwork, and Ferdinand had been doing his best to listen, truly. Still, he found his attention drawn away by the speaker himself.</p><p>      He knew that to many, the Minister of the Imperial Household would seem imposing-- even now, as he simply drank a cup of coffee. Indeed, when they had first met, he had found himself rather intimidated by him. Everything from the tone of his voice to his long, gloved fingers suggested thinly veiled malice. Daggers on his belt. Knives up his sleeve. He suspected he always kept half his face obscured by a curtain of hair because the intensity of meeting both eyes head-on would surely be enough to kill a man. To say nothing of the very literal and direct threats he had few reservations about making to anyone he deemed a danger to Lady Edelgard.</p><p>      The intimidation did not last long, though. More time spent around him, and intimidation was replaced with annoyance. Hubert spoke constantly of the then-princess, with all the reverence and devotion given to the Goddess. He spoke just as frequently to Ferdinand of her superiority to him. They could hardly stand each other’s presence, back in those days. When had things changed? The closeness between them now felt so correct that Ferdinand found it difficult to imagine feeling anything other than fondness for the man. Perhaps it was the war; they had saved each other’s lives too many times to count. They had shared tents on long marches, had found ways to tolerate each other, then to work together, then to understand and respect each other. Hubert had once sat as Ferdinand wept over the death of a horse in a state not at all befitting a noble, silent and unsure what to offer other than his shoulder. For all the ways he knew how to tailor his words to sound perfectly threatening, it turns out he was rather awkward in such situations. Not one for condolences, indeed.<br/>
                  Hubert was a man of sharp edges, it was true. But past that was a man who was dependable and fiercely loyal, whose dark circles were due as much to knives cutting in the dark as they were to nightmares and paperwork-filled all-nighters. He was not a terribly good dancer. He had a tendency to get so absorbed in work he forgot to take care of himself, and had on more than one occasion woken up to his head on his desk and Ferdinand’s cloak around his shoulders. He was afraid of heights. He remembered Ferdinand’s favorite tea, and he wore the little embroidered patches that Bernadetta made for him.</p><p>      Ferdinand knew the gloved hands that so carefully prepared his favorite tea had been stained with blood a thousand times over. He thought he would still very much like to hold them.</p><p>      A smile began to spread across his face that he was only dimly aware of, lost in thought and green eyes as he was.</p><p>                  “Something amusing, von Aegir?” Hubert’s stare met his, green and intense as always, sending his heart leaping to his throat and startling him back to reality.</p><p>      “Ah—no. Forgive me. My mind was elsewhere.” He squirmed his gaze out from under Hubert’s, face flushing hot, flicking his eyes down to the tea in his hands. He set the cup back on its saucer with a soft <em>clink, </em>and rested his hands on the tablecloth, fingers laced together. “It is of little consequence.”</p><p>      Hubert chuckled, the sound low and dry but not mirthless—his laughs were rarely mirthless as of late—and raised an eyebrow. “If I didn’t know any better, I would say you were daydreaming like a schoolboy. Romanticizing the nobility again? Or perhaps thinking of another scheme to prove yourself superior to Emperor Edelgard? Going to try to fight two demonic beasts at once and have the professor time you?” He took a small sip of his coffee before setting it down as well and crossing his arms.</p><p>      Ferdinand laughed in return, though cringing slightly at his younger self. “I am well aware that I had a tendency to act… well, you would say ‘insufferable’, during our academy days, and perhaps that is not completely inaccurate. You have no need to remind me of it.” He waved a hand dismissively. His face brightened further into a grin and he pointed across the table. “But do not act as if you were perfect! I do not believe you ever washed your hair back then. One could have greased the pans in the dining hall with it. And if I recall correctly, you threatened our professor with assassination on more than one occasion.”</p><p>      “You wound me.” Hubert shook his head with a faint, but genuine smile. “Ah, but I cut my hair, didn’t I? And I assure you that I’ve learned how to take better care of it.”</p><p>      “As well as how to have friends without threatening them.”</p><p>      Hubert laughed again, fuller and louder this time. The sound was as addictive and dizzying as the caffeine he drank. He lifted both hands, gesturing to himself. “See? I would say I’ve improved. And don’t forget, I have also learned to tolerate you, dear Ferdinand.”</p><p>      He tried to ignore the way his heart jumped at the word ‘dear’. It was only teasing, he knew, but still… His face was likely red as the sun setting behind him, he realized with dismay, and he suspected his heart was written all over his expression. Schoolboy daydreaming, indeed! Not for the first time, Ferdinand found himself wondering if Hubert could read minds or if he always wore his thoughts so plainly. To make matters worse, the other man was smirking, like the word was as intentional as a knife between his ribs. Was he imagining it, or was there a faint pink tint to his cheeks? And here he was, getting distracted again! He shook his head.</p><p>      “Tolerate? And here I thought we were friends! I suppose I shall have to inform Edelgard that our rivalry has resumed, and we can no longer be in the same room. And find a new teatime partner. At least I won’t be forced to drink coffee anymore.”</p><p>“Forced? I didn’t realize it was such an ordeal for you. It’s not as if I’m holding you at knifepoint to drink it.”</p><p>      Ferdinand smiled, shaking his head. His face still felt warm, but less dangerously, feverishly so. He supposed it was the sort of warmth he always felt for the man seated across from him. He had put a name to the feeling only recently, but it had been present for much longer, he knew. He was not quite prepared to articulate it. He always figured he would be married off to someone he had never met for political benefit to his family. All his noble training could not have prepared him for the way Hubert rendered him, so often eloquent and graceful, flustered and speechless. But perhaps he could say some part of it, wrapped in metaphor. And so he began: “You are right. I was just ‘daydreaming’, as you put it, about that, actually.”</p><p>      “About coffee?” Hubert crossed his arms again, his face forming an inquisitive look.</p><p>      He nodded. “Truthfully… I do not mind coffee so much. It’s grown on me, you could say.” His hands folded and unfolded and tapped at the edge of his cup.</p><p>      He took a deep breath before continuing. “For the longest time, I was repulsed by it. So dark and bitter. I did not understand how anyone could enjoy it! And it was too intense for me, then. The very smell was enough to repel me, and one cup would entirely deprive me of sleep. But I have spent more time drinking it, and over the years, I…” For a brief moment, he met Hubert’s gaze. His previous teasing expression had flattened into something unreadable, and the lacework of the tablecloth suddenly seemed quite interesting. Ferdinand’s hands were fidgeting anxiously, untethered again from the teacup.</p><p>      Another breath. “It is bitter, certainly. But along with the bitterness, there’s… complexity. Richness. It’s strong, and keeps me grounded. And It is quite invigorating! Nothing can brighten my day so quickly. Coffee is difficult to get used to, but… well worth the time it takes to acquire the taste. I am quite glad I had the chance to.” He rested his face against one hand, smiling, finally sliding his eyes up to meet Hubert’s again. “I would say it brings out the best in me. I have grown rather fond of it.”</p><p>      Their eyes were locked for a moment that seemed to stretch on for an eternity, before Hubert cleared his throat and averted his gaze, casting his eyes downwards. His gloved hands were clenched around his cup. The faint blush along his cheeks had deepened, made more obvious by his pale complexion. He shifted his head to the side, as if trying to see if he could get his hair to cover the rest of his face as well as his eye, and perhaps hide the rest of him, too.</p><p>      “Well. You know, I’ve… grown rather fond of tea, as well.”</p>
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